


the people all exulting

by naughtyskeletonpuns (badskeletonpuns)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gentle Sex, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 15:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11900388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/naughtyskeletonpuns
Summary: Self-indulgent schmoopy survivor's club smutfic, like I was always meant to write.





	the people all exulting

Picture a party. The people in suits, the people in dresses, glittering lights and bubbling champagne softening the scene around the edges. There’s classical music and Important People™ and waiters offering those people tiny appetizers worth more than most made in a year.

There is also Douglas Eiffel, bored as hell and seriously tempted by the tiny glasses of champagne.

Lovelace and Minkowski are circling the room, sharks after blood in the water. Or to be specific, two women on the hunt for people willing to fund/testify as part of a Goddard takedown the three of them were spearheading. That was why they were hosting this party in the first place, funded by the news organization that Minkowski’s husband worked for.

Or well. Not husband.

It’s not like the man – David? Daniel? Dominik? Eiffel couldn’t remember. It’s not like he’d turned out to be secretly evil the whole time or working for Goddard or whatever B-movie sci-fi twist could have happened.

But he’d visited Minkowski in the hospital fewer times than maybe Eiffel would have thought. She’d always seemed ever-so-slightly shakier, just a little less stable, after he left.

And he’d been there when the three of them were finally released from the hospital, but he hadn’t smiled the way he did in the pictures Minkowski had tacked up by her hospital bed and it just - it didn’t look the same.

Maybe Eiffel was jealous. And wouldn’t that be the unattainable cherry on the out-of-his-league cake? Even with his growing stronger by the day crush on Perfect Space Bad-Ass Isabel Lovelace, he still couldn’t get Minkowski out of his mind.

(There wasn’t anything to be jealous of between Minkowski and Koudelka anymore.)

Eiffel sighed and fidgeted with the corner of his bowtie. This train of thought went nowhere but Sadtown, USA.

“Bored already?” Lovelace was at his side, eyebrow raised and arms folded across her chest. She didn’t look particularly fascinated by the event either, using it only to further their goals of getting the money and information they needed.

Eiffel shrugged. “I mean, you and Minkowski seem to have the whole schmooze talk on lockdown, so there’s not really that much to do.”

“Oh, I can think of a few a things…” Lovelace mused. “Have you taken a good look at that dress Minkowski’s wearing?”

(He definitely, definitely had. Black, floor length, with a slit up one leg and strappy cut-out sections across the back showing off the planes of muscle and graceful arch of her spine.) Now, though, he was looking a lot more at Lovelace with a lot more surprise on his face. “I- What?”

Lovelace laughed, the sound curling deep and husky. “Please, I see the way you look at her.” She smirked. “I see the way you look at me, too.”

Eiffel.exe has stopped.

Lovelace put her hand on his shoulder. He imagined he could feel the heat of her hand even through his suit, imagined the roughness of her palms against his skin.

Hoo boy. He was in trouble.

“Wanna do something about all that looking?” Lovelace asked, still smirking at him.

He was in the good kind of trouble.

* * *

This was probably the best night Lovelace had had since her return to Earth. Both Eiffel and Minkowski had done double takes at her red dress and Eiffel had called her a Bond Girl before switching tracks to 007 himself, ‘but like, without all the rampant misogyny’. Her eyeliner was winged sharp as her wit and the champagne was just enough of a bravery boost. The other two looked pretty sharp as well, Eiffel’s suit emphasizing his height and the clean lines of his body, his hair in a messy bun that he’d promised Minkowski he’d fix before the party and then never fixed. And Minkowski - dark eyes and darker dress, running around holding her heels in one hand while they’d been setting up.

This was going to be the night.

Isabel Lovelace was going to be herself, the only way she knew how. Brash and bold and unashamedly asking for what she wanted.

And it was working pretty damn well, Eiffel already flushed and looking at her with open adoration and also a hell of a lot of surprise. He’d work through that.

“So?” Lovelace asked. “I can’t do this without you.” She stopped, considered, tapped one finger against her poppy-red lips. “Or, well, I suppose I could. But I don’t want to. And I don’t think Minkowski would want to either.”

Eiffel’s eyes were trapped on her finger against her lips.

“Are you - are you asking what I think you’re asking?” he said, hoarse.

Lovelace beckoned him closer. “Eiffel,” she murmured, voice low and eyes hooded. “If what you think is that I’m going to invite you and Minkowski into the gardens outside and have a serious talk about what the three of us are to each other and the complexities of our feelings, then you’d be correctamundo.”

“Oh, that sounds, I mean, pretty reasonable-”

“And if that goes the way that I hope it does, then I’m going to ask you very nicely to get on your knees and get that quick mouth of yours on me, and make my best come hither eyes at Minkowski and see how much she wants me. And then, I don’t know, how do you feel about blowjobs?”

“Oh my god,” Eiffel said in a strangled voice. “Oh my god, that is the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You in?”

Eiffel looked at her, solemn eyes and straight-faced for all of two seconds before he broke into laughter that was a little too loud for the atmosphere of the party. Lovelace shushed him, pulling him closer.

“Lovelace,” he said once he had regained his breath. “You literally just offered me a threesome with the women I’ve been pining over for like, three years. In what Twilight Zone am I saying no to this?”

It was Lovelace’s turn to laugh then, and the sounds of their combined mirth drew Minkowski from whatever conversation she’d been having over to their spot on the side of the floor.

“If I have to flirt with one more retired flyboy, I’m going to break something,” she grumbled by way of introduction.

“Well,” Lovelace said, dropping into a curtsy. “Oh captain, my captain, your Communications Officer and I may have just the thing to relieve some of the stress of this evening.”

Minkowski looked at the two of them. “If you are going to light anything on fire, I-”

“That was one time!” they said in unison.

She shook her head. “Once was more than enough. At any rate, what was your plan?”

Lovelace smiled and held up one finger against her mouth in the universal symbol for quiet. “It’s a secret. Do you trust us?”

Minkowski snorted. “I shouldn’t.” Then she smiled and held out her hand for one of them to take. “But I do. Beam me up, Leia.”

Eiffel threw his hands into the air. “Okay, I know you’re just doing that to wind me up!”

She laughed. “Gee, Eiffel, why would I ever do a thing like that?”

Lovelace reached out and grabbed Minkowski’s outstretched hand and then one of Eiffel’s, leading both people out the back door into the large gardens attached to the venue. Once they were securely out of view, tucked behind several large hedges and shrubbery, Lovelace sat down on a convenient bench underneath a trellis of roses.

A touch cliché, but Lovelace hadn’t been in charge of the flower arrangements in the garden.

“Alright,” she said, once the three of them had all settled onto the bench. “Eiffel and I wanted to talk to you about something. The three of us, we’re close. The things we’ve been through… It’s hard not to be.”

Minkowski just nodded, the moonlight playing off her skin as she moved.

Fuck, Lovelace wanted to kiss her right now.

Eiffel was leaning over Minkowski’s other side, eyes wide and chewing on his lower in something that was either nervousness or anticipation. Probably both.

“And I was thinking - well, we were thinking,” she began.

“We’re both kind of in love with you. And each other. A lot, like, it’s embarrassing how much, but-” He froze, gaze flicking over to Lovelace. “Wait, that was what you meant, earlier? Feelings? This wasn’t like, just going to be a one night stand or anything?”

“Yes, Eiffel, I was totally going to have a one night stand with my two best friends. There’s no way that would ever go horribly wrong.”

“I’m sorry I just kind of freaked out, I’m really kind of freaking out right now I mean like in a good way, but you two are so out of my league it’s like-”

“Eiffel!” That was Minkowski, then, her hand on Eiffel’s knee and her eyes on his. “Breathe.” He breathed in with Minkowski, and then out, and Lovelace found herself breathing along. “You okay?” she asked.

Eiffel nodded. “Yeah, I just-”

Minkowski cut him off with a kiss, winding her hand not on his leg into his hair and tugging him closer. Lovelace had a front row seat, close enough to sense the tension in Minkowski’s body and to hear Eiffel gasp when Minkowski bit his lip.

“You still good?” Minkowski said, quiet and comforting and there was nothing Lovelace wouldn’t do for this woman.

“Great,” Eiffel breathed. Then he looked over, caught Lovelace’s eye. There was already a flush running high on his cheeks, and it only darkened under the force of her gaze. “Actually,” he said, “There was… Something I wanted to do.”

He slipped off of the bench, kneeling in front of Lovelace. She shifted in place, never breaking eye contact.

“Hello there, Doug,” she murmured.

He smiled at her, set one hand on her leg, just at the hem of her dress. “Can I…?”

Lovelace just nodded at him, sliding forward and spreading her legs a little bit more. She didn’t trust her voice right now, not with Eiffel’s smile and his hands and everything about this moment.  
He shuffled closer on his knees, sliding his hands up her thighs and taking her dress with them. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, every brush of Eiffel’s hands electric.  
Minkowski was unmoving next to Lovelace, but when Eiffel pushed Lovelace’s dress far enough up to reveal that she was already wet through the fabric of her underwear, she sucked in a sharp breath.

Lovelace risked a glance over at Minkowski, all dilated eyes and still breathing harshly. She only had a moment to enjoy the view, because in no time at all her panties were around her ankles and Eiffel was kissing the inside of her thigh. His lips were soft, warm, and Lovelace could really super use them actually on her clit.

She whined, unrepentant, shameless, canting her hips further forward towards his mouth. He leaned back a little and looked up to make eye contact with her.

“Pushy, aren’t we, Captain?”

Lovelace bared her teeth at him and reached down to pull him closer. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Eiffel obeyed, and god that man really did know how to use his tongue for something other than crazy wamajama. Lovelace was panting in seconds, heart beating fast and doing her level best not to squish Eiffel’s head between her thighs. His hands were still on her legs, holding her close and trying get better leverage to give her the pressure she was demanding from him.

She was whining now, scrambling, shamelessly pressing further into his mouth, his tongue, fuck, fuck, fuck she was already so gone. And then - then she heard someone else’s little gasp, a second of bitten-off sound, and Lovelace pulled herself together enough to look at Minkowski, one hand pressed between her legs but still on top of her dress.

“You just - god, Doug don’t stop - you just gonna watch, Commander? Just gonna let me and him have all the fun?”

Minkowski was still for a moment. Then she grinned, and this was something Lovelace would never get enough of. This being both Minkowski, finally relaxing and letting herself take what she really wanted, and also Eiffel’s tongue twisting against her, bringing her ever closer. Minkowski reached out, carding her fingers through Eiffel’s hair. He shivered under her touch, and the look on his face and Minkowski’s and the pressure of him there between her legs, it was fucking miraculous and Lovelace folded like a house of cards.

She rode out her orgasm on Eiffel’s mouth, gasping and shaking and unable to think of anything but him there, Minkowski beside her, everything and all of it about them. He sat back on his heels when she leaned back, mouth and chin shining with wetness in the dim light of the night.

“Come here,” Lovelace said, and when he kissed her she could taste herself in his mouth.

And then that sound again, Minkowski still trying to keep herself quiet, far too many clothes on and apparently not yet relaxed.

Someone should really do something about that.

“Renée,” she whispered. “Want some help?”

Minkowski just looked at her, cheeks darkened by her blush and breath coming fast. She had one hand wound in Eiffel’s hair and he was looking at her like she hung all the stars in the sky, and her other hand remained pressed against the v of her legs above her dress.

“Look at me, closely,” Minkowski breathed, ragged. “And ask yourself that question again.”

Lovelace reached out, slid one finger under the shoulder strap of Minkowski’s dress. Tugged it down off her shoulder. Ran her hand over the smooth skin there. She looked back up to meet Minkowski’s eyes.

“Don’t leave any marks where people can see,” Minkowski warned, and Lovelace laughed.

“Is that a challenge?” And before Minkowski could protest, Lovelace knelt on the bench, straddling one of Minkowski’s legs. She leaned forward, tugging Minkowski’s dress and the strapless bra under it down further as she went until she could get her mouth on Minkowski’s breast.

Minkowski keened, allowing herself to be loud at last, hands scrabbling for purchase on Lovelace’s back and bucking against Lovelace’s thigh.

“Eiffel,” Minkowski gasped.

It took a second, Eiffel still kneeling on the ground and transfixed by the two women in front of him.

“Eiffel!” she got out, more than a little louder, the word almost a shout.

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice growing desperate. “I, yes? What? I’m sorry Commander I’m just a little distracted, I mean, look at you, look at Lovelace, I just-“

“Doug, get your ass up here and get your hands on me.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

He sat on the bench behind Minkowski, his chest pressed against her back. “Is this- Are you?”

“Yes, god, Eiffel, yes,” she panted, and then Lovelace bit down lightly on her nipple and Minkowski couldn’t seem to talk anymore.

Eiffel seemed hesitant, still nervous even though Lovelace had literally come on his face minutes earlier. At least, he was hesitant until Minkowski leaned back, grinding into him and making him whine. Lovelace was occupied leaving hickeys she was pretty certain would be covered by the neckline of Minkowski’s dress and tugging the other side of it all the way down. She was getting close to coming again already, unable to resist the friction between them and the sight of Minkowski coming undone under her mouth and Eiffel’s hands sliding up under Minkowski’s dress.

She felt rather than saw Eiffel’s hands between Minkowski and herself, felt the way Minkowski shuddered and thrust against his fingers.

Minkowski was loud when they got down to this, down to the bare skin and slick movements of the three of them. Eiffel’s hands were sure and steady, Lovelace’s mouth wet and warm and the combined sensations had Minkowski falling apart at the edges. She came with a shout that sent Lovelace over the edge again, whiting out her vision and leaving the two of them slumped against each other and breathing hard.

Eiffel was shaking against Minkowski’s back, and his voice was too loud and still barely intelligible when he spoke. “Minkowski, Commander, I- I’m gonna, I can’t, I can’t, Renée please I want to come with your hands on me, please, fuck.”

“Doug, Doug, it’s okay, I’m here,” Minkowski was talking fast, turning in his lap to face him, cupping his face with one hand and setting her other on the waistband of his pants. “I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

He was nodding, breathing so fast he was almost hyperventilating.

“Breathe, Doug,” Minkowski whispered, “I promise, I’ve got you.” She slipped her hand into his pants, starting up a slow rhythm.

He was writhing against her, breath slowing to match the rhythm of her strokes.

Lovelace sat back on the bench, giving the two a second to themselves. After all they’d been through, they deserved this. … And she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a nice view.

The two of them all flushed and ruined and leaning into each other like they were the only real thing on this earth, like they were all each other had. The way they looked at each other sometimes, it was more than Lovelace thought she would be able to bear if it was directed at her. Since it wasn’t, she could take all the time she wanted to let the bite of the chill night air sink into her skin and her brain sink back into place, coherent thought slowly coming back to her.

Minkowski did something with her hand that Lovelace couldn’t see, leaned forward to kiss Eiffel gently, and he was gone. Eiffel was quieter than Lovelace would have thought, spilling into Minkowski’s hand with a soft cry and probably ruining that pair of pants.

He was breathing hard again, panting and near tears and turning his face into Minkowski’s hand, seeking the warmth and comfort there. “I’m sorry,” he was saying, “I know, I’m ridiculous, I’m sorry, I’m-”

Minkowski shushed him, running her clean hand through his hair and drawing him close. She steadied herself with her… less clean hand on the stone bench between them. “You’re amazing, Doug, it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Lovelace reached around, pulling both of them into a hug. She brushed her lips against Minkowski’s neck, so gentle that it might have almost been an accident.

They remained that way for a few moments, breathing in and out and regaining their senses slowly. All too soon, the night air began to nip at Lovelace’s bared skin and probably even more so at Minkowski, still topless. And then there was a stain on Minkowski’s dress where Lovelace had been riding it, and Minkowski’s hand and Doug’s pants were definitely, definitely getting sticky.

Minkowski started laughing, shaking her head. “I can’t believe we did this.”

“I can,” Eiffel and Lovelace said in unison.

**Author's Note:**

> please validate my ridiculous emotional porn,,,


End file.
